※ Stand Still Stay Slient ⇢ a beautifully illustrated webcomic by Minna Sundberg.
※ Wikström Photos ⇢ simply amazing photos of nature and the world.
※ Le Futur Sera Chauve / The Bald Future ⇢ lovely animated short by Paul Cabon.
※ False Knees ⇢ Comics about birds.
※ The Diary of Anne Frank ⇢ “…when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that this cruelty too shall end, and that peace & tranquility will return once again.”
※ Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell ⇢ A really cool book about magic and fancy English society.
※ Comet In Moominland ⇢ What happens when a comet is bearing down on the entire world? Adventures of course!
※ The Book Thief ⇢ Finding solace in books during a time of great turmoil.
※ Downward Bound: A Mad! Guide to Rock Climbing ⇢ How to rock climb and fall into disrepute.
※ The Cartoon History of Time ⇢ Ever been taught physics by a chicken and a cat?
※ To Kill A Mockingbird ⇢ Timeless classic.
※ The Sisters Brothers ⇢ A tale of two brothers in the old west.
movies and shows
※ American Graffiti ⇢ A single night in the 1960’s.
※ The Before Trilogy ⇢ Two people walking around, pondering love and life.
※ Arrival ⇢ Aliens, time travel, and philosophy. Awesome.
※ Moonlight ⇢ A tender look into one man’s life.
※ Raw ⇢ When cannibalistic tendencies go wrong.
※ Son of Saul ⇢ A beautifully crafted film. Heartbreaking and harsh.
※ Memories of Murder ⇢ A fraught, and at times futile, search for a criminal.
※ Knifepoint Horror ⇢ The best horror stories around.
※ Spiegel im Spiegel ⇢ Beautiful classical piece.
※ The Sea Shell By Marin Sorescu, Translated by Michael Hamburger
I have hidden inside a sea shell but forgotten in which. Now daily I dive, filtering the sea through my fingers, to find myself. Sometimes I think a giant fish has swallowed me. Looking for it everywhere I want to make sure it will get me completely. The sea-bed attracts me, and I'm repelled by millions of sea shells that all look alike. Help, I am one of them. If only I knew, which. How often I've gone straight up to one of them, saying: That’s me. Only, when I prised it open it was empty.
※ Summer at North Farm By Stephen Kuusisto
Summer at North Farm By Stephen Kuusisto Finnish rural life, ca. 1910 Fires, always fires after midnight, the sun depending in the purple birches and gleaming like a copper kettle. By the solstice they’d burned everything, the bad-luck sleigh, a twisted rocker, things “possessed” and not-quite-right. The bonfire coils and lurches, big as a house, and then it settles. The dancers come, dressed like rainbows (if rainbows could be spun), and linking hands they turn to the melancholy fiddles. A red bird spreads its wings now and in the darker days to come.
※ Flowers By Wendy Videlock
/for my mother/ They are fleeting. They are fragile. They require little water. They'll surprise you. They'll remind you that they aren't and they are you.
※ Example of Recursion by wharfinger
A CS professor once explained recursion as follows: A child couldn't sleep, so her mother told her a story about a little frog, who couldn't sleep, so the frog's mother told her a story about a little bear, who couldn't sleep, so the bear's mother told her a story about a little weasel... who fell asleep. ...and the little bear fell asleep; ...and the little frog fell asleep; ...and the child fell asleep.
※ Point by Point by Táhirih (Qurratu l-ʿAyn)
If I met you face to face, I would retrace—erase!—my heartbreak, pain by pain, ache by ache, word by word, point by point. In search of you—just your face!—I roam through the streets lost in disgrace, house to house, lane to lane, place to place, door to door. My heart hopeless—broken,crushed!—I heard it pound, till blood gushed from me, fountain by fountain, stream by stream, river by river, sea by sea. The garden of your lips—your cheeks!— your perfumed hair, I wonder there, bloom to bloom, rose to rose, petal to petal, scent to scent. Your eyebrow—your eye!—and the mole on your face, somehow they tie me, trait to trait, kindness to kindness, passion to passion, love to love. While I grieve, with love—your love!—I will reweave the fabric of my soul, stitch by stitch, thread by thread, warp by warp, woof by woof. Last, I—Tahirih—searched my heart, I looked line by line. What did I find? You and you, you and you, you and you.
※ Recursion by Maria M. Benet
A tomato I overlooked on the window ledge, remembers the hold of vine, the brace of ground, and puts down roots inside its own flesh. Halved under the blade of my knife, the tomato unbinds its shoots, sends them into an abyss of air and light— Here at my desk I sit remembering, putting down words far from the vine of a native tongue, as if they could be roots, each, like the tomato with its faith curlicues in pale inward shoots, calling to itself, back to the source of fruit.
※ The Tea and Sage Poem by Fady Joudah
At a desk made of glass, In a glass walled-room With red airport carpet, An officer asked My father for fingerprints, And my father refused, So another offered him tea And he sipped it. The teacup Template for fingerprints. My father says, it was just Hot water with a bag. My father says, in his country, Because the earth knows The scent of history, It gave the people sage. I like my tea with sage From my mother’s garden, Next to the snapdragons She calls fishmouths Coming out for air. A remedy For stomach pains she keeps In the kitchen where She always sings. First, she is Hagar Boiling water Where tea is loosened. Then she drops In it a pinch of sage And lets it sit a while. She tells a story: The groom arrives late To his wedding Wearing only one shoe. The bride asks him About the shoe. He tells her He lost it while jumping Over a house-wall. Breaking away from soldiers. She asks: Tea with sage Or tea with mint? With sage, he says, Sweet scent, bitter tongue. She makes it, he drinks.